


easy, like falling

by anniejumpcannon



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Young Avengers
Genre: Angst, Cunnilingus, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, More Like Porn With The Barest Hint Of Plot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Really Just The Delicate Shadow Of A Plot, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 04:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5571236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniejumpcannon/pseuds/anniejumpcannon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Kate go on a road trip after the Battle of Bed-Stuy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	easy, like falling

They don't really talk about it; they just get in the car and go.

Kate doesn't even look at him for the first hour, not once. Her eyes are fixed dead ahead on the road as he drives. She doesn't talk, either, just winces once or twice when they go over particularly nasty bumps.

Once they're well and truly out of New York, she tells him to stop the car. He merges way too abruptly, the car behind him honking furiously, and pulls into a deserted rest stop with a tattered map and a water fountain. 

She gets out of the car and just stands there, facing away from the road and out into the trees, until he comes up to stand beside her, far enough away that there's no risk of them touching. 

Clint waits there, listening to her breathe, trying to hear her heart beat. Murdock told him once that he could tell how people felt, just from their heartbeats, that he always knew when they were lying. Kate hasn't said anything yet but he still isn't sure she's telling the truth. 

He always used to know when she was angry, really and truly angry as opposed to the fake, funny way she would give him grief when he drank coffee straight from the pot or watched an episode of Dog Cops without her. Her eyes would get all cold and hard around the edges. That's how she looked when she left, he remembers. He's not sure if she's stopped looking that way yet.

He thinks about how it would be, not knowing her like he used to. The whole time she was gone he worried that she'd come back different, and now she's back, and she's different, and he can't tell if it's his fault or if something happened out west or if whatever happened out west is his fault, because she only left because he let her down, over and over again.

Now that she isn't talking he wishes he had listened more when she was. Clint thinks about all the things she said to him while he was dozed off, or tuned out, or ignoring her on purpose. He wishes she had written them down to show him now that he knows what it's like not to have her. 

She turns to him, and for a second he thinks she's going to reach out and he's terrified, because she's perfect and he's scared to leave fingerprints. But instead, she walks back to the car and gets in and waits for him to keep driving. 

She speaks for the first time much later, when the last rays of the sun have faded and Clint's eyes are starting to droop. It's been a long day, we should stop, she says. 

The motel is a dreary chain property, but it's relatively clean. The woman at the desk gives them a look, like she's estimating the age difference in her head, but Kate just looks back at her with equanimity until she hands over the keys. 

There's only one bed, and Clint can't tell if he should have asked for two, or if he should have gotten them separate rooms, but Kate just lies down on top of it, doesn't even bother taking her clothes off, just kicks off her shoes and flops down like the wind's been knocked out of her. In fairness, it has been at least once today. She's out as soon as she hits the mattress.

He lies down too, but right on the edge of the bed so she'll have lots of room. She's lying on her back with her eyes closed, snoring gently. It would annoy him if it were anyone else, but since it's her it just makes Clint's heart feel torn open and exposed. Even after everything, it takes a long time for Clint to fall asleep, and even when he does he dreams of Kate. 

 In his dreams she still laughs, and everything is easy, like falling. Her hair falls around her face and he tucks it behind her ear and she smiles up at him and then they're kissing, her hands in his hair and her mouth hot and needy against his, and when she climbs into his lap he chuckles and she echoes his laugh and rolls her hips against him until he's frantic.

When he wakes up she's wrapped around him, her arm on his chest and her face nestled in his shoulder. He stays so still, afraid to wake her, that he falls back asleep. When he wakes again, she's out of bed, brushing her teeth in the bathroom. 

They drive for the whole day again, but this time Kate talks. Not about California, not about anything important. She just makes sounds with her mouth, nonsense about reality TV or the New York debutante scene or her friend at Columbia who has this crazy startup idea where they deliver pancakes like other companies deliver pizza, or how she thinks David and Tommy are together but it's super duper on the down low. Half the time Clint has absolutely no idea what she's on about, but he doesn't mind at all. Her voice is soothing, so soothing that after a hundred or so miles of seemingly endless trees, he starts to nod off. 

He wakes up with a start when Kate screams, suddenly confronted by oncoming traffic, and realizes he's drifted across the median. He swerves back into the correct lane, but Kate is still breathing so fast and so hard that he pulls off at the next exit and finds the nearest motel. Clearly he's driven enough for one day. 

Kate hasn't stopped hyperventilating by the time they're in the room. He grabs her shoulders, because he can't not touch her when she's like this, and gets close enough to hear her mutter something about how she thought she was going to lose him again. That's more than enough for Clint. 

His hands still on her shoulders, he spins her so she's pressed up against the door and then he kisses her and knows it's for real even though it's just like the dreams he's been having for years, her tongue skating over his bottom lip and just a brush of teeth, the needy, desperate sound she makes when he runs his finger over the curve of her breast. He's imagined it all before, knows her so well he's surprised he couldn't have predicted just how good it would be. She's tugging at his shirt, trying to peel it off, but he's so focused on her that he barely spares a second to let her yank it over his head before he's kissing down her neck, sucking a mark just under her collarbone so that even if he never gets the chance to touch her like this again, he'll be able to look at her and know that for at least a moment she was all his. 

His shirt is off now and he's furious at the inequity of her still being clothed when all he wants is to really see her, see her like he's been longing to for years. So he tugs her shirt off and unclasps her bra in a move so graceful it shocks even him, and then he wraps his arms around her waist and picks her up. He knows she's lost weight, he's carried her bleeding out of battles enough times to know the weight of her in his arms, and so he kisses down the ribs he wishes he couldn't feel and sucks a nipple into his mouth, hears her gasp out something that sounds almost like  _please, more_. 

He doesn't want to make her beg, not that he thinks he could, so he fumbles at the buttons on her jeans as she digs her nails into his shoulder blades. He has to put her down to slide her jeans down her thighs, but it's worth it to be close enough to press his lips to her, kissing the damp spot on the front of her panties before he slides them down too. 

She's so beautiful that he can hardly stand it, can hardly wait, but he wants it to be good for her. So he makes himself move slowly, kissing gently and sliding a finger inside her slowly, feeling her clench desperately around him as she moans. He licks over her clit and she curls over, clenching her thighs around his hand and digging her nails into his shoulder. He's so hard it hurts, even though he hasn't touched himself once. He adds another finger as he sucks on her clit, and she grabs his arms desperately, pulling him up and away from her. Want you inside me, she mutters, and somehow he gets even harder, and then it's her turn to fumble with his pants, and when she wraps her fingers around him it takes every bit of self restraint he has not to come right there and then. 

But he keeps it together long enough to scrabble in his back pocket for the wallet he knows has a condom in it, somewhere, and then she's sliding it down over his cock, fingers gentle despite her urgency, and then he's lifting her up again and unable to tear his eyes away from the expression on her face as he slides into her.

It's perfect, no, better than perfect, more than he ever deserved, and he wants to move until he sees a twinge of pain on Kate's face and freezes, terrified that he's hurt her. But after a moment she nods, and he thrusts up and she grinds down and they find their rhythm just like he knew they would. They know each others' bodies in the way that people who have fought and worked and trained and lived together do. It's so simple and beautiful and  _right_ that he's on the verge of falling apart, so he slides a hand between them and thumbs over Kate's clit and then she's clenching around him and fucking  _moaning_ into his ear and it's incredible, he loves her so much and she's everything he ever wanted, and he shatters into a million pieces. 

When he wakes up the next morning, her arm is wrapped around him again. But this time, she doesn't leave. 

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh, I have never written even a LITTLE bit of porn before this! But here we go! Comments and feedback welcome. I have no idea what I'm doing.


End file.
